Dragoncrest Cliffs having dinner in the candlelight

Dyin'.

Lucette flinched at that word, her typical apathy twisting for a moment into something akin to horror — or perhaps fascination.

Or perhaps both.

She sniffed intently at her sister's mouth, her eyes, each nostril in turn. While their mother hovered and questioned, Lucette circled to take in the scents all over her sister's body — even nosing intrusively beneath her tail. Yes, she smelled sickly. But did she smell like a dying thing? Would Lucette have known if she did?

Her gaze turned expectantly to their mother.